At that moment the king and Alexander Ruthven passed across the lower part of the hall, taking their way towards the great staircase leading to the picture-gallery, the cabinet close by which had been prepared by Gowrie's orders, as the reader has already seen, for the king to repose himself after dinner. James had his arm round Alexander Ruthven's neck, in the over-familiar and caressing manner which he not unfrequently put on towards those who were on the eve of disgrace; and he was, moreover, laughing heartily. There were some sixty persons in the hall at the moment, all talking aloud, and most of them with their faces turned from the door which led into the lesser hall, so that the monarch's passing was noticed by few. The Duke of Lennox, however, caught sight of James's figure, and rose, as if to follow him; but Gowrie said, "His majesty is going to repose for a while in my study up stairs, which has been made ready for him;" and Lennox at once resumed his seat.
Sir Thomas Erskine, however, who was placed considerably farther down the table, had frequently turned his eyes towards the room in which the king had been dining; and now he instantly got up and followed James out of the hall, overtaking him at the foot of the broad staircase, and entering into conversation with him and Alexander Ruthven. They ascended the stairs together, and at the top encountered Christie, the earl's porter, who instantly drew on one side with a low reverence, but at the same time put his hand to his chin in a somewhat significant manner.
Passing then through the gallery without taking any notice of the pictures, the king, without direction from his host's brother, proceeded at once towards the door of the gallery chamber, through which was the only way from that part of the house to Gowrie's study; and the door having been thrown open for him to go through, James turned to Sir Thomas Erskine, saying, "Bide you here for us, man."[[10]]
Erskine bowed, and stopped at the door; and James, with Alexander Ruthven, passed through. In the large gallery chamber, standing in the recesses of the window, were two or three men, dressed as the ordinary household servants of the king--at least so says tradition. Alexander Ruthven either did not see them, or took no notice of a circumstance which had nothing extraordinary in it; but, advancing a step before the monarch, he opened the door of his brother's cabinet, and James at once passed in.
When the young man had his step upon the threshold to follow, however, he paused for an instant and hesitated, seeing a tall dark man, completely armed, already in possession of the room.
"Come in, Alex, bairn--come in," cried James, in a good-humoured tone.
The young gentleman, not without a feeling of dread, obeyed; and the door was closed.
CHAPTER XLIII.
The court-yard of Gowrie palace--that large court-yard which I have before described, of ninety feet in length by sixty in width--was filled with men and horses from a little after one till a late hour in the afternoon. Gowrie's own attendants had more than they could well manage to do--the domestic servants in waiting upon the king and the courtiers, and his grooms and stable-boys in taking care of the horses. The granaries were thrown open. The servants of the strangers helped themselves to what they needed; and men who had never been seen in the place before, were running over the whole building. In vain Mr. Cranston remonstrated, and endeavoured to preserve a little order; and while he himself was obliged to be absent from the scene of confusion, besought Donald Macduff, the earl's baron bailie of Strathbraan, who had come down with his lord from Trochrie, to stop the people from entering the palace and swilling the wine and ale at their discretion. Christie, the porter, seemed to rejoice in the tumult, giving admission to all who wanted it, to every part of the house, except the two upper floors.
"There'll be nothing done," said Macduff, "unless one of them has his head broke. It's all Christie's fault. He knows that he's to go to-morrow, and cares not what he does. I'll split his weasand in a minute with my whinger, if you'll but say I may, Mr. Cranston."